


all we do is stand there (the water line's rising)

by voodoochild



Category: Pro Wrestling Guerrilla, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Haunting, M/M, Magical Realism, Necromancy, Past Character Death, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: "You saw him again, didn't you?" / "I always see him." [The soulbond universe where you're haunted by your soulmate's ghost after they die.]





	all we do is stand there (the water line's rising)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sage Francis' "Water Line", 'verse inspiration from an old Boardwalk story of mine ([what's done in the dark must be brought to the light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/361876)). Shoutout to Mith for her help in Generico-wrangling.

“You saw him again, didn’t you?” Eddie says, tucked into the corner of the PWG locker room. He’s compulsively playing with the zip on his gear bag, refusing to look at Kevin. “During the match. You looked out of it, dude. You can’t fucking do that.”

Kevin doesn’t really blame him. Ever since… ever since Generico left, people don’t like to look too closely at Kevin, as if they think shades are contagious. No one wants to jinx their own soulbond by inviting the attention of a shade. Which is absolutely inane, he’s Kevin’s shade and no one else’s.

Kevin sighs, unlacing his boots, instinctively placing them just to the left of the aforementioned shade that’s leaning against his old locker. “I always see him. That’s the goddamn point of shades. Did you sleep through necrosociology?”

“No, I just - I don’t know exactly how it works. It’s not like Ghost, is it?”

“That’s fucking Hollywood, man. If it were real, Demi Moore would see Patrick Swayze all the time, she wouldn’t need Whoopi Goldberg to talk to him.”

“But shades don’t talk, right?”

Generico rolls his eyes, and Kevin echoes it without even thinking. Hollywood is so stupid, there are so many movies about shades that are unable to speak, or a bonded who can’t see their shade, or weird curses that separate bonded forever. What’s the one he watched with Generico, the one with an evil witch who cursed a bonded pair and then the woman died, so her husband couldn’t see or hear her, but she could see him? It won an Oscar or something, it was big when they were kids.

“Shades talk the way bonded always talk,” Kevin says to Eddie, tapping his temple. “Up here. So can I still hear the ginger idiot? Yes. For example, right now he’s very insistent that you are not a total moron, you are bueno even if you’d fail basic necrosociology.”

As is usual whenever Kevin brings up Generico, Eddie looks creeped the fuck out. Non-shadowed don’t really understand, nonbonded don’t have a clue of getting it, and Eddie is both. He gives Kevin the “okay buddy, I’m gonna back away now because you’re nuts” look, and Kevin ignores him edging his way over to Elgin, clearly wanting to start a conversation with someone less shadowed.

_/You can’t force him to understand./_

He looks up at Generico, eyes kind behind the mask. Always kind, even when he shouldn’t have been. It got Generico hurt.

/He isn’t wrong. You throw me off./

_/Do you want me to stay away, when you’re in the ring?/_

No, fuck no. He wants the opposite of that, wants to lock up with Generico again, to feel that cool, thin skin against his again. Generico always felt smaller outside the ring, like you could snap him in half if only you were fast enough to catch him. Inside the ring, oh Generico was bigger than life, always getting back up to fight back. Kevin has the faintest and most beautiful memory of Generico: his hand reaching out to pull Kevin up, absurd to think that the scrawny idiot could lift him, but he had. Warm palm against Kevin’s, that solidity to him - solid and firm and trustworthy and *real* and true.

_/Selfish./_ Generico says, eyes liquid behind the mask. _/You forgot that./_

/That’s not a bad thing./

Not at all, not in their business. You have to be selfish, or people take advantage of you. Another lesson learned from Generico.

(Because of Generico.)

_/Was. I wouldn’t let you go. Now, I can’t./_

It’s not a failing - or, if it is, it’s not only Generico’s. Kevin’s selfish too.

Kevin can’t let Generico go, either.


End file.
